


how to fuck like a porn star

by returnsandreturns



Series: The Very Special Adventures of Mikey Murcock [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: F/M, Law School, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Porn Star AU, Porn Watching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-17 23:26:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7290367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/returnsandreturns/pseuds/returnsandreturns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing about having—really good hearing, for lack of a better term—is that Matt knows what’s happened before anybody brings it to his attention. It’s more than that prickling nervous feeling when people are whispering around you, it’s “the blind intern--Murdock? You’ll never guess what he does in his spare time” from an intern two offices over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	how to fuck like a porn star

**Author's Note:**

> It was dancinbutterfly's birthday last week and she asked for [this episode of Grey's Anatomy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-vyBfr-SztU) only with Matt Murdock and hardcore porn, so I've been writing this at her (and with her help, she is responsible for lots if it, including the porn name) all week and it is DONE.
> 
> This is operating on a timeline where Matt and Foggy and Elektra meet in undergrad and Elektra leaves at the end of their freshman year. Also, I didn't include these in the tags because most are just references and not intimately described but some content warnings: fisting, gangbangs, medical kink, daddy kink, flogging, crawling, boot licking, gags. These all happen either off-screen or are being experienced second-hand through watching videos.

The thing about having— _really_ good hearing, for lack of a better term—is that Matt knows what’s happened before anybody brings it to his attention. It’s more than that prickling nervous feeling when people are whispering around you, it’s “the blind intern--Murdock? You’ll _never_ guess what he does in his spare time” from an intern two offices over.  

Matt clenches his hands on his desk after she proceeds to tell her friend exactly what Matt does in his spare time—well, _used_ to do, he stopped when he had enough saved up to pay off his loans and tide him over and “spare time” makes it sound like a hobby and not actual work, but—regardless. The words make Matt’s stomach turn.      

“You okay, buddy?” Foggy asks. “Your face is doing a thing.”

“A thing?” Matt asks, smiling.

Two offices other, the other girl says, “Have you _seen_ his ass? I could’ve guessed that.”

“It’s kind of like your _I’ve had two too many shots and am about to vomit on Foggy’s shoes_ face,” Foggy says. “Are you day drinking? You’re not supposed to day drink without me.”

Matt laughs, but it sounds forced even to him.

“Just feeling a little off,” he says. “Your shoes are safe.”

Foggy makes a skeptical noise.

“If you say so,” he says.

They’re watching one of the videos on a cellphone.

*

It’s Elektra who gets him into it, because of course it is. It’s Elektra who gets him into breaking and entering and attempted murder and the kind of sex that Matt had basically no concept of before—teaches him exactly what he likes and how he likes it, and Matt _likes it,_ anything she can throw at him.

“Oh, Matthew,” she says, before their world ended, when she had him bent over her perfectly neat desk with her strap-on buried inside him. “You do look good like this.”

“Yeah?” he breathes.

“ _So_ good, sweetheart,” she says, sweetly, a little dark, dragging her nails lightly down his spine. “People would pay to see you all pretty and panting.”

Later, after she lets him come on her desk and makes him lick it clean with her fingers tangled in his hair, she curls around him in her bed and says, “You know, if you still won’t let me spoil you, I do have a way you could make a bit of honest money.”

“This doesn’t count as spoiling?” Matt asks, smiling and pressing a kiss to her hair.

“The things I’d do for you if you’d let me,” she says. “Of course, you _won’t_.”

“Well, what are you proposing?” Matt asks, and Elektra hums happily, moving to climb on top of him and kiss his forehead.

“I wasn’t exaggerating when I said people would pay to watch you,” she says, cupping his cheek.

Matt laughs.

“Planning on selling tickets?” he asks.

She taps her fingers on his cheekbone.

“Something like that,” she says.

*

It starts with a casual lunch with somebody that Elektra knows from God knows where—it’s a normal lunch, the guy’s nice and he pays and, outside, he hands Matt a business card and says, “If you’re interested in trying out acting, give me a call.”

“Acting,” Matt says, faintly, after he walks away.

“You won’t have to act very much,” Elektra says, smoothing a hand down his arm, and Matt can _hear_ her grin. “Not when you like it as much as I know you will.”

She steals his phone from his back pocket to enter the number in, then leaves her fingers tucked there. Matt feels shaky and— _excited,_ underneath a little bit of disbelief.

He’s even more excited when he waits until Elektra leaves her room the next morning to shower to call the guy and hear exactly how much he would make for filming with him.

(Looking back, it wasn’t a lot—but—eighteen and existing on scholarships and loans and food from parties that Elektra dresses him up for and it seemed like a fortune.)

Elektra laughs and kisses him when he tells her that he said yes, that he has an address to show up to on Friday to fill out paperwork and do a photoshoot.

“My very own star,” she purrs.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into it,” he says, smiling when she gasps and slowly walks him backwards until his knees are against her bed.

“You didn’t take an awful lot of convincing, darling,” she says, pushing him down and standing over him, sliding her hand up his thigh. “I’ll let you pretend I’m taking advantage of your innocence, though—if only because you enjoy it.” 

“You know, I, uh,” Matt says, sitting up on his elbows. “I think you might need to convince me a little more, actually.”

“Well,” she murmurs, sounding pleased as she pushes him down again and straddles him. “You _will_ need the practice.”

*

He uses the name Michael Murcock on the paperwork, his middle name and a last name that he and Elektra joked about late one night and he never got out of his head.

By the time that he strips down so that they can take his picture in a few different positions, to keep in their file for him, the director’s already convinced him to change it to Mikey.

“It’ll fit the barely legal, good Catholic boy thing you’ve got going on,” he says. “Now, turn around and bend over that couch for me, okay?”  

“Mikey,” Elektra says, later that night, when she has Matt on all fours with her fingers twisting inside him. “I like it. It makes you sound precious.”

“Precious?” Matt asks.

“Like something to be _corrupted_ ,” she says, warmly, trailing her free hand down his side before she spanks him hard.

Matt moans and pushes back, taking her fingers deeper.

“ _Eas_ ily corrupted, maybe,” she adds, and Matt laughs.

“Maybe,” he agrees. “I’ll pray about it later.”

“Oh, they’re going to _love_ you,” she says. “Though not half as much as I do.”

The way her voice goes soft and earnest and the steady sound of her heartbeat combined with the hand that slips underneath him to run fingers lightly up his dick are enough to make Matt come with a startled moan.

“Mikey,” she says, again, happily, as she slips her fingers out of him. “Such a good boy for me.”

Matt makes a pleased noise and turns over to collapse on his back.

“For you,” he says, warmly, reaching out a hand for her to take. She presses a kiss to his knuckles before she climbs on top of him to straddle his shoulders, petting his hair indulgently when Matt wraps his fingers around her thighs and pushes her dress up to her waist.

“Now,” she says, softly, shifting closer to his face and curling her fingers lightly around his throat. “Show me how good you’d be for the cameras.”

*

Less than a month later, Matt gets a call to book his first movie and, the same day, Elektra teaches him how to deep throat—going down on him first before pushing him to his knees and talking him softly through swallowing around her strap-on.

After she pulls it up enough that Matt can eat her out, after they’re sprawled out together on the bed, Matt asks, “Do you think I should tell them that I’ve never been with a guy before?”

Elektra laughs softly and angles her head up to kiss his chin.

“I think they might steal you away from me if you do,” she says. “Are you scared, Matthew?”

Matt stretches out with a yawn before he pulls her closer.

“Nervous,” he says. “That’s all.”

“There’s no need to be,” she says. “You’re going to do beautifully.

She comes along with him to the first day of shooting, promises the director that she’ll stay quiet and presses a kiss to Matt’s cheek before she finds a seat in the corner.

The director interviews him on camera before they start, sitting on folding chairs. After he asks Matt how old he is and Matt tells him eighteen, he asks how many guys he’s been with.

“This is my first,” Matt says. “I actually, uh, brought my girlfriend with me.”

The director laughs when Matt smiles off in Elektra’s direction.

“That’s an interesting relationship,” he says. “Is she happy with your choices?”

“Maybe a little too happy,” Matt says, and Elektra laughs. “It was her idea.”

“We’ll take good care of your boy,” the director says, turning towards her.

“You’d better,” she replies.

Matt’s costar is a few years older than him, and he introduces himself as Brody and shakes his hand before they start.

“Really your first?” he asks, then, after Matt nods. “I’ll make it good for you. Let’s try and make your girlfriend jealous.”

“Ooh,” Elektra whispers, soft enough that only Matt can hear her in the corner. “I like him.”

The movie doesn’t have much in the way of plot, which means Matt just has to stumble through a few lines and act hesitant and virginal until Brody takes his glasses off and pulls him into a kiss. It’s a nice kiss, soft and sweet until Matt’s knees are backed up against the bed and he lets himself fall so Brody can pull off his jeans and underwear at once.

“Oh, look at you,” Elektra breathes. “Already so hard and he’s barely touched you.”

Matt tips his head back and moans, smiles when she laughs softly and sits up so Brody can pull his shirt off for him.

“What do you want, baby?” Brody asks, traces fingers through his hair.

Matt pushes up into the touch and shuts his eyes.

“What do you want, Matthew?” Elektra repeats, so quietly.

“I want you to fuck me,” Matt says, maybe too earnestly, but Brody just laughs and kisses him again and tells him to get on his hands and knees before he strips.

Elektra talks Matt through it, tells him good he looks all sprawled out, how he looks like he loves it. And Matt does, feels drunk on her voice and how _full_ he is, almost forgets the cameras are even there for a few seconds as he gets fucked up against the mattress with Brody talking in his ear and Elektra whispering in the corner.

The movie’s low budget enough that they don’t do many takes, mostly a few long continuous shots until they get to the end, when they both have to come twice to make sure they get a good shot. Matt feels exhausted and sort of giddy when it’s over, like how he feels after working out for too long, and Brody gives him a hug and says, “I think you’re going to be pretty popular if you keep this up, kid.”

Elektra loops her arm through his after he cleans up and gets ready to leave.

“See?” she says. “I knew you’d love it.”

“I’ll never doubt you again,” Matt says.

*

After Matt’s first few small movies, he starts to get a lot of offers, and he keeps saying yes because it gives him an actual reason to have a savings account.

The few times he makes it back to their dorm, Foggy notices that his clothes are nicer, that he’s changed his cotton sheets for silk ones, and says, just a little sharply, “The kept boy life seems to be treating you well.”

“Trust me,” Matt says, smiling. “I work for it.”

Elektra basically works as his manager up until the point that she leaves—and she does leave. She abandons Matt with blood on his hands, and Matt stops doing anything at all until Foggy willingly steps back into his life and basically drags him through until the end of the semester.

He thinks about never answering his phone again, but he needs money and it’s easy to throw himself in deeper and deeper when she’s not there to help him choose projects. It’s dangerous to have a reputation for being willing to do anything, but it kind of feels like he’s actually taking control for once.

He retires unofficially a few months before he starts at L&Z with Foggy, when he has enough money to pay off his loans and live on for a while. The company that he’s been working with for the last year buys him a cake for his last shoot. It’s a weird ending to a weird story, eating cake on a bed where he just got fucked by three guys, but it does _feel_ like an ending—like Matt can move on.

Of course, he can’t. 

*

Matt slips out of work early, after everybody finds out, before Foggy can hear about it. He goes home and sits on his bed and waits in silence until he hears Foggy coming.

“Hey, buddy,” Foggy says, from the doorway, rapping his knuckles lightly on the frame.

“Did you see?” Matt asks.

“I caught a glimpse on somebody else’s laptop,” Foggy says. “Before I came to find you. Are you freaking out?”

Matt shrugs.

“I don’t know yet,” he says, shifting over when Foggy moves to sit next to him, their backs to Matt’s headboard and Foggy’s shoulder shoved up against his.

A long silence passes before Foggy says, casually, “So. Porn.”

“Yeah,” Matt says, and there’s another beat before he breaks down laughing until Foggy starts laughing with him, insinuating an arm around his shoulder to tug him a little closer.

“ _Well_ , tell me more,” he says, when they’ve both calmed down. “How did you find yourself in the fast-paced business of internet pornography?”

“I had a connection,” Matt says. “It was good money.”

“How good?” Foggy asks.

“Paid for law school good,” Matt says, smiling when Foggy chokes.

“ _Seriously?”_ he asks, then, when Matt nods, “Damn, dude. Good job.”

“Good job?” Matt repeats, skeptically.

“You’re the only person I know without rich-ass parents who isn’t drowning in debt,” Foggy says, tightening his arm for a second. “Good effing job. You should be proud.”

“I have a feeling that you’re the only person who thinks that,” Matt says, after a long moment, scrubbing a hand over his face—he’s blushing, and he’s pretty sure it doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that Foggy _knows_ and everything to do with the word _proud_.

“Maybe,” Foggy says, brightly, “but who needs other people when we’ve got each other? Codependency all the way, pal.”

Matt’s probably blushing more, but he just moves to wrap his arms around Foggy’s middle, grateful when Foggy huffs out a quiet laugh against his hair and hugs him back—tugs until Matt’s practically in his lap because Foggy is really great at hugs.  

When they pull apart, Foggy pats him on the back.

“Weird day, Murdock,” he says.

“You’re telling me,” Matt murmurs. He angles his head sideways towards Foggy. “You really didn’t watch anything?”

“About ten seconds of your ass at a very flattering angle,” Foggy says, “but otherwise, no.”

“Do you want to?” Matt asks, then, when Foggy makes a weird noise, “I mean—since everybody else has.”

“You don’t have to show me,” Foggy says. “I’ll stay off porn sites forever if you want.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” Matt says, laughing. “Look—come on, there’s a really ridiculous one I did when I was just starting out, you’ll like it.

Foggy hesitates for a second before he sighs and says, “Yeah, why not, I’ll watch you get fucked.”

Matt tells him where to look in his laptop to get to the videos he has saved, and Foggy opens up the right one—the room fills up with the sound of Matt’s voice as he’s being interviewed at the beginning. He remembers it pretty well; the room was too hot and he was just wearing a white t-shirt and pair of jeans, sitting cross-legged on the couch. 

“You were a baby,” Foggy says. “Look at that face. I mean, you can’t, but trust me—you’re a doe-eyed infant.”

“You knew me back then,” Matt says, smiling.

“Yes, but I didn’t realize that you were an infant because I, too, was an _infant_ ,” Foggy says, “but now that I am old, I know better.”

“Just watch,” Matt says, leaning against him heavily.

Foggy’s quiet for about ten seconds until they ask Matt his name, and Foggy laughs, says, “ _Murcock_ ,” like he’s never been more delighted with anything in his life.   
  
“It seemed appropriate at the time,” Matt says.   
  
“I’ve never loved you more,” Foggy says, sincerely, “then right now at this very moment, Murcock.”  
  
“Oh god, please don’t make that a habit,” Matt says.   
  
“Be quiet, Murcock,” Foggy says, dropping a hand on Matt’s knee. “It’s rude to talk during a movie.”   
  
Foggy squeezes lightly then leaves his hand there as the scene starts. 

Matt didn’t really have any idea what the other guy looked like, even while he was filming, just that he was older and bigger, could lift Matt and move him like it was nothing and had rough hands that Matt liked. A nice voice, soft and deep.  
  
Foggy’s quiet again until they start talking onscreen when he says, awe-struck, “Matt.  _Matthew_. The  _dialogue_.”   
  
“Oscar worthy,” Matt says, smiling.   
  
“Oscar  _worthy_ ,” Foggy repeats. “I’m so happy.”

Foggy’s repeating Matt’s lines in a ridiculous breathy voice when suddenly he goes quiet.   
  
“What’s happening?” Matt asks. “I can’t remember how we started.”  
  
“He, uh, just tore your shirt off and pushed you onto the couch,” Foggy says, after a second. “Was he strong? He looks—strong.”   
  
“Yeah,” Matt says. “He was strong.”

Foggy’s fingers tap aimlessly on his knee.

“That’s the worst dirty talk I’ve ever heard,” he says, faintly, while Matt listens to the sound of the guy pulling off his jeans for him and saying the stilted lines they were given as professionally as possible, the familiar sound of being spanked through underwear, just once.   
  
“I thought you’d enjoy it,” Matt says.   
  
“I do,” Foggy says, swallowing hard. “You’re naked now, by the way. He's very efficient." 

“People prefer it when you get straight to the good part,” Matt says.   
  
“Right, yeah,” Foggy says, distractedly. “I guess I wouldn’t really care to see any extended romancing written by whoever the hell wrote this. Oh, hey, there’s your dick.”   
  
On the screen, the guy asks Matt if he wants it and Matt hears himself moan, way more real than anything they’ve said so far, “ _Yeah_ , Daddy.”   
  
He thinks that Foggy might laugh—but his breath just kind of catches. 

“Ridiculous, right?” Matt asks, but he doesn’t even sound like he means it. This was the first time he ever called anyone that, except for practicing it with Elektra before they filmed while she put her entire weight on top of him and fucked him hard, but it was—different, in the scene. Low voice and big rough hands. 

“Uhm,” Foggy says, a little hoarsely. “Yeah, yeah—ridiculous.” 

On screen, the guy spanks Matt again, skin on skin, and says, “Spread your legs, baby girl.”

Foggy’s hand on Matt’s knee tightens convulsively. Matt remembers it a little more clearly now, being stripped and flipped over so his chest is pressed up against the back of the couch, the feel of his dick rubbing up against the leather. 

It’s less funny than Matt remembers, once their clothes are off, once he’s getting fingered and rocking up against the couch and barely remembering his lines because he’s actually turned on. He should have shown Foggy something else, maybe, but this is—tame, at least. 

When Matt starts to beg for the guy’s dick, Foggy’s fingers flex again and he says, “Well, that sounds kind of natural, at least.” 

“Yeah,” Matt says, softly. “I—I think I ad-libbed that.”  
  
“Oh,” Foggy says, shifting beside Matt. Matt’s wondering if it would be weirder to turn it off right now or just keep watching it when Foggy continues, lightly, “Hey, maybe we should stop.”   
  
“Oh, sorry,” Matt says, fingers finding the space key to pause it. “You’re uncomfortable.”   
  
“I’m. . .too comfortable, I think?” Foggy says, weakly. He pats Matt’s knee before he finally moves his hand away. “You look really damn good like that, buddy.” 

“Do I?” Matt asks, laughing.  
  
“Like you don’t know,” Foggy says, nudging him again.  
  
“Well, I only have other people’s word,” Matt says.   
  
“Colorful words,” Foggy says, dryly. “Anyway. You’re really hot, congratulations.” 

The thing about having senses like Matt does is that he knows Foggy is turned on even without Foggy telling him. Knows it intimately. Is very,  _very_ aware of the fact that Foggy is hard right now and is still pressed close to Matt’s side with an image of Matt getting fucked by someone he never spoke to again frozen on the screen in front of them. 

Matt wants to  _do_ something about it, suck Foggy off right here or—kiss him, he could kiss him, just to see what happens.

Matt breathes in deeply for a moment before he turns his head towards Foggy, saying his name softly. He starts to reach up to brush Foggy’s hair away from his face when Foggy shifts away from him abruptly, heart pounding as he says, “So, what’s your plan?”   
  
Matt drops his hand.   
  
“What?” he asks.   
  
“Your plan. Now that everybody knows,” Foggy says. “What are you going to do?”   
  
Matt’s quiet for a moment.  
  
“Maybe they’ll just forget,” he says, weakly, and Foggy laughs.  
  
“Maybe, buddy,” he says, sinking back against Matt again. “Maybe they will.” 

*

He can hear them talking about him before he even steps into the building the next morning, can’t help but focusing in on it even while Foggy’s talking to him as they step through the front doors.  
  
“ _Fisting_ ,” somebody upstairs says.   
  
“Fisting? Like—”   
  
“Like with a  _fist_.” 

Matt’s hand clenches around Foggy’s arm. He was kind of proud of that movie when he did it, honestly—it wasn't  _easy_ —but he’s having a hard time feeling that right now.   
  
“What’s up?” Foggy asks. “Nervous?”   
  
“. . .yeah,” Matt says. “Let’s just go, we’re supposed to sit in on that meeting.”   
  
Every intern in the room, clustered out of the way in the corner of the table, goes silent when they walk into the room.   
  
“Morning,” Foggy says.   
  
There’s another silence before one of the trust fund assholes, Josh, says, “Hey, Foggy. Mikey.” 

Foggy goes stiff next to him.

“That’s not his name,” he says, sharply.

“Leave it,” Matt says, rolling his eyes and letting go of Foggy’s arm to find a chair.

“I thought _you_ were the one who liked taking orders, Mikey,” Josh says.

“That’s not all he likes taking,” Jenna murmurs, and everybody laughs. Matt sighs. Jenna and Josh have a long-standing tradition of fucking in the copy room every Thursday afternoon and Matt could share some things he’s heard about _their_ sexual proclivities, but he can’t exactly expose another one of his secrets.

“Are you planning on telling the partners?” he asks, dully.

“Not until they’re passing out jobs,” Josh says. “Though I guess you could just bend over for them if you wanted one of those. None of us could possibly compete with that—I mean, we’ve all seen what you can do.”

“If any of you did actual work instead of watching porn on the job, maybe you wouldn’t need to blackmail people to get one,” Foggy hisses.

“Foggy,” Matt says. “Don’t.”

Foggy makes a frustrated noise before he slumps down into his seat.

“You turning the other cheek?” he asks, softly.

“Yeah,” Matt says, smiling at him. “That’s what I’m doing.”

“Alright, man,” Foggy says, sighing. “I’m following your lead.”

The partners come in before Josh can push it anymore, but Matt can still hear them whispering, could hear them without his senses, tries to will himself not to start blushing when Jenna starts talking about what his ass looks like in panties.

“Panties?” Foggy whispers.

Matt makes a face at him but nods.

“Okay,” Foggy says, faintly.

*

“Hey, princess,” Josh says, when Matt passes him in the hallway later.

Foggy’s working on a group project, and Matt’s managed to avoid everyone for most of the day. They’re supposed to meet in their office soon and get dinner. Matt briefly wonders whether, if he punched Josh in the face while nobody was around, he’d ever admit that Matt was the one who did it.

Instead, he takes a deep breath and keeps walking, until Josh steps in front of him and they collide.

“Can I help you?” Matt asks, voice clipped and careful, steadying himself with a hand on the wall.

“I was reviewing some of your work, and I just wanted to know—do you prefer being called a slut or a whore? Because you seem to enjoy them both, like, a lot,” he says.

Matt makes a thoughtful noise.

“I prefer slut,” he says, then knocks his cane against Josh’s knees so he moves away and Matt can slip past him and into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

Matt leans against the door and tips his head back, shutting his eyes with a sigh. Without even concentrating very hard, he can hear his own voice playing from three different devices, three different videos throughout the building. He’s trying to figure out if he can stay in this bathroom until everything just blows over when he hears Foggy and Marci talking.   
  
“Murdock’s being pretty damn calm about all of this,” Marci says, her heels clicking in a slow rhythm as they walk down the hallway right above Matt. “I’d be losing my shit right now.”   
  
“Well, there’s nothing he can do about it, I guess,” Foggy says. “Unless I can figure out how to shut down the internet entirely and, trust me, I’m still working on that.”   
  
Matt smiles helplessly at his feet.   
  
“I’ve bitched at everyone for being creeps, but I doubt that will help, because they’re _creeps_ ,” Marci says. Their footsteps stop. “But I’ll also punch Jenna and fuck up her nose job if Murdock wants me to, I’ve been waiting for an excuse.”   
  
“That’s very sweet of you,” Foggy says, “and also very violent.”   
  
“That’s me,” Marci says. “I’m going home. Tell Matt I respect him and his ability to put his legs entirely behind his head.”   
  
“I will tell him the first part,” Foggy says, and Marci walks off. Matt waits until he hears her get into the elevator to head back to their office, where Foggy’s gathering his things.   
  
“I don’t know about you, buddy,” Foggy says, “but I’m ready to get the hell out here.”   
  
“Please,” Matt says.   
  
“Get your shit, I’m buying you dinner.”   
  
Foggy reaches up to brush his knuckles against Matt’s shoulder as he passes, and Matt smiles sideways at him.   
  
“I should probably buy _you_ dinner,” he says, grabbing his bag and hefting it over his shoulder before he follows Foggy to the door.  
  
“Because of your porn millions?” Foggy asks, nudging Matt with his elbow so he slips his hand around it as they walk.  
  
“Because you’re being so cool about it,” Matt says. “I mean, I’m sure you heard things today.”  
  
“Oh, I heard things,” Foggy says, laughing.   
  
“You can tell me,” Matt says, tightening his fingers gently on Foggy’s arm. “I mean, it won’t be a surprise.”

“We can talk about it once I have a burger in my hands,” Foggy says. “Literally in my hands and not a moment before. Oh—by the way, Marci said to tell you that she respects you.”   
  
“Yeah?” Matt asks.   
  
“Well, and then she said something lewd, but the respect was there,” Foggy says.   
  
“I’m touched.”   
  
“You should be,” Foggy says, knocking his shoulder against Matt’s. “She’s never said she respected me once in our entire lives.”   
  
“Maybe you should do porn,” Matt says, and Foggy barks out a laugh.   
  
“Clearly,” he says. “You’re smarter than all of us, Murdock.” 

Foggy tells him about Marci’s offer to punch Jenna on their way down to the diner a few blocks over, and Matt politely declines the offer.

“Well, unless she really wants to,” he adds, after a beat, and Foggy snorts.

“Oh, she does,” he says. “She’s been wearing a lot of rings lately.”

At the diner, they order their usual and Foggy makes Matt order a milkshake which he’ll probably end up drinking most of and they sit in relatively comfortable silence until the waitress brings their food.

“So,” Matt says. “What did they say?”    
  
Matt tried not to listen in, focused enough on his work that, for small stretches of time, everything faded into the background, a dull murmur underneath the sound of the air conditioner and the street outside. Not that he didn’t hear things—jokes and color commentary and mocking snippets of dialogue lifted from some of the worse scripted and themed stuff, which—okay, sure, they were _dumb_ , but it’s not Matt’s fault that people see him and instantly want to stick him in a Catholic school uniform or play up the blind thing. He actually can’t count the amount of shitty plots that involved him wandering into the wrong part of town or going into the wrong bar and acting young and helpless.   
  
He's really good at acting helpless—probably because he’s _not_.   
  
“They were trying to make sure that I knew you did terrible things,” Foggy says, “which is bullshit, because they didn’t tell me anything that was terrible. Intense, maybe, and— _a lot_ , but not  _bad_.”   
  
Matt feels really warm all of a sudden. He _knew_ that, of course, but Foggy’s saying it so simply and his heart doesn’t speed up at all.   
  
“What did they think was so awful?” he asks, stirring a straw in his milkshake, letting his fingers go numb as he holds onto the glass. 

“Apparently it’s shocking to get it on with five guys at once,” Foggy says, not even lowering his voice. “Who knew?”   
  
Matt laughs, tilting his head back towards the ceiling.   
  
“Somebody said they saw one with ten, which seemed excessive,” Foggy continues, “but, like, why not? If you can bring joy to ten people instead of one, why not?”   
  
“I don’t think there were ever more than eight,” Matt says. “It’s hard to keep track, though, when you can’t see them.”   
  
“Sure, yeah, I imagine,” Foggy says, gamely, “and I’m sure you were too busy to be doing math.”   
  
“What else?” Matt asks, ready to rip off the band-aid, scrolling through the list of stuff he’s done in his head and trying to think of something that would make Foggy stop joking. “I’ve—done a lot, I’m sure that wasn’t the worst they could find.”

“I don’t even know if what they said was true,” Foggy says. “They could have just been messing with me.”

Matt’s quiet for a moment before he tries to smirk.

“It’s probably true,” he says. “All of it.”

Foggy takes a bite of his burger before he says, casually, “Do you regret any of it?”

Matt leans back in his chair.

“No,” he says, eventually.

“Why would it matter to me then?” Foggy asks. “If that’s—what you’re worried about.”

Matt swallows down whatever he’s feeling, something he can’t quite place, and slides his hand across the table until his fingers brush against Foggy’s.

“I, uhm,” he says. “I guess I’d just rather you heard about it from me first.”

Foggy covers Matt’s hand with his own for just a second before he moves it away again, says, “You could show me.”

Matt lets out a short breath before he nods.

“Yeah, I could do that,” he says.

*

He has to crawl under his bed to get the DVDs. Foggy changes out of his work clothes while he pulls them out, dropping a box of them onto his bed.

“So, that’s where you keep your secret porn stash,” Foggy says.

“It’s more like a resume, really,” Matt says, gesturing to the box while he goes to change, too. He thinks Foggy might be watching him, feels the prickle on his neck, so he slows down, pulls his clothes off slowly and bends over to hear Foggy’s heartbeat pick up. He smiles at the wall as he pulls on a pair of basketball shorts, a t-shirt he stole from Foggy in undergrad.

“Wow,” Foggy says. “These are, like, professional.”

“Mmm hmm,” Matt says, smiling as he climbs onto his bed. “I was, like, professional.”

“You won _awards_?” Foggy asks, reading the back cover to himself. “Look at you, Meryl Streep.”

“It was an honor just to be nominated,” Matt murmurs, smile growing when Foggy laughs and moves to sit next to him, their backs against the headboard. The faint nerves—maybe dread—that he’s feeling are tempered with Foggy’s presence, their arms pressed together.

“Alright,” Foggy says, clapping his hands and taking Matt’s laptop when he passes it off to him. “Let’s do this. The Very Special Adventures of Mikey Murcock.”

“That’s _not_ what it’s called,” Matt says.

“Well, the title of this film is so salacious that I can’t even say it out loud,” Foggy says.

“If you think _that’s_ salacious, I’m not sure you can handle the rest of it,” Matt says, kind of actually worried, but Foggy’s already starting it up, sitting the laptop on the bed in front of them.

“Dramatic music,” Foggy says.

“My ears work fine, buddy,” Matt says, and Foggy elbows him gently.

Matt’s sitting on a black leather sofa while he’s being interviewed, both feet on the floor, dressed in all black—he remembers it clearly, because his hands were shaking and he had to focus on details to keep his head from swimming along with them. This was the first movie he did after Elektra, after Foggy told him he had to get out of bed and do anything—he took the first offer he got and barely read the contract, started filming after finals.   
  
That’s probably not what Foggy meant by  _anything_. It got Matt moving again, though.  
  
“Is that a dungeon?” Foggy asks.   
  
“I think it was a basement,” Matt says. “It smelled like a basement.”   
  
“Sex basement,” Foggy murmurs. “Was this sophomore year?”  
  
“Right before,” Matt says. “How could you tell?”   
  
“You’re too skinny,” Foggy says. “Like you were after—you know.”

Foggy calls it “the lost summer” when he’s drunk and they actually talk about it—when Matt disappeared for the better part of three months and never told him any specifics, showed up for sophomore year like nothing happened. He always says that he assumed Matt was getting laid and finding himself, and Matt always jokes that at least one of those things was true. Mostly, he was working.

He listens to Matt talking for a few minutes and then Foggy says, “Oh. Sophomore year.”   
  
Matt smiles.   
  
“Well, you weren’t lying,” Foggy says. “You were getting laid that summer.”   
  
“Among other things,” Matt says, and Foggy laughs.

Onscreen, Matt says that he’s up to try anything.   
  
“That was your fake,  _I want to charm my professors into loving me_  smile,” Foggy says. “Are you really up for anything, Mikey?”   
  
Somewhere in the back of his head, Matt thinks:  _Don’t call me that if you’re not going to fuck me afterwards_ then swallows back the feeling, already feeling on edge even though his clothes are still on, in the video and otherwise.    
  
“Why don’t you wait and see?” he asks, and he’s close enough to Foggy to sense that he flushes, to feel his pulse speed up where they’re touching. 

“I guess I won’t have to wait long,” Foggy says. “You’re already naked.”  
  
Matt remembers that pretty vividly, too—starting out vulnerable, stripping in front of the cameras for the first shot on his knees on cold concrete in the middle of an empty room—no furniture, just a camera crew and two men in front of him, fully clothed.   
  
“Did you touch either of their scary, handsome faces?” Foggy asks. “To know how scary and handsome they are?”   
  
“No,” Matt says, smiling faintly. “I don’t do a lot of touching in this.”

“Just—being touched?” Foggy asks. He shifts so his knee knocks against Matt’s, and Matt nods.

On-screen, one of the men asks why he’s here, and Matt responds, softly, “To learn how to be used.”

He’s pretty sure he can _hear_ Foggy get hard—tries to hide his smile and mostly fails as he asks, “What’s happening?” even though he already knows.

“Oh, uhm—one of them is touching _your_ face, actually,” Foggy says. Strong grip on Matt’s chin, lifting it up. Fingertips brushing his cheekbone. “Oh, shit.”

A slap, _hard,_ and then the guy’s telling Matt to say it louder, and Matt does—but his voice was shaky. Another slap and Matt adds a, “ _Sir_ ,” to the end of it. Foggy’s fingers clench in the sheets. 

“How did that feel?” Foggy asks, sounding a little breathless.

Matt hasn’t been slapped in awhile.

“Good, actually,” he says. “It kind of—centers you?”

“Huh.”

“I’ll slap you if you want to see,” Matt says, smirking, and Foggy laughs.

“No, thanks, I’ll leave that to you,” he says, then makes a surprised noise. “Uh—along with the boot licking. Wow.”

“Oh, yeah,” Matt murmurs, sitting up a little straighter thinking of his spine curved and his forehead pressed to the cold ground until he felt the nudge of a boot against his cheek and raised his head to press his lips to it, then his tongue.

The second guy tells him to crawl, taps his fingers on his thigh so Matt can follow the sound until he’s kneeling in front of him.

“You’re crawling,” Foggy says. “That’s, uh—”

“What?” Matt asks.

Foggy swallows hard, opens his mouth a couple of times before he finally says, “That’s _really_ hot, buddy.”

“Oh,” Matt says, smiling.

“Don’t look so pleased,” Foggy says, warmly, leaning against him a little more heavily. “It’s porn, it would be weird if it wasn’t hot.”

“Sure,” Matt says, smiling wider.

“It’s totally— _oh_ ,” Foggy says, drawing off after the sound of another slap, harder than the first ones.

On-screen, the guy asks him what he is, and Matt says, “Your slut,” and bends over to press his lips to the toe of his shoes, too.

“Good answer,” Foggy says, quietly, shifting where he’s sitting. “I think he agrees, he just pushed your face into his crotch—and, hey, the other guy’s joining the party, welcome back.”

Matt can hear their zippers, and Foggy goes quiet watching. Matt remembers their fingers in his hair, running over his face, before one of them says, “Beg for it,” and Matt does, begs nice and pretty and then there’s the slick sound of a dick pushing past his lips.

“You’re, uh. . .” Foggy starts, floundering a little.

“Yeah, I know,” Matt murmurs. “I can hear.”

Matt sits there and listens to his face get fucked, thinking about the pull of their fingers in their hair as they shared him and the way Foggy smells beside him, feeling in over his head until Foggy groans.

 “Matt, Matty, I think we should stop again,” he says, a little hoarse.

“We don’t have to,” Matt says. “You can just—take care of it, if you need to.”

“Here?” Foggy says, voice breaking, and Matt shrugs.

“It wouldn’t be weird,” he says. “I’m clearly used to. . .”

He draws off, and Foggy asks, slowly, “People pulling their dicks out around you?”

“More or less,” Matt says, laughing.

Foggy hesitates before Matt feels him moving next to him, pulling his waistband down, the soft inhale when he touches himself for the first time.

“Are you going to—join me?” Foggy asks.

“Oh,” Matt says. “Yeah.”

By the time Matt has his hand wrapped around his own erection, there’s the sound of the two guys groaning and Foggy’s pulse spikes again, voice caught around a moan when he says, “They came on your face. Jesus, Matt.”

Matt wants to get in close to him, bury his face into Foggy’s neck and rub off against him, get them both messy.

On-screen, he breathes out, “Thank you, sir,” and the music shifts and Foggy makes a choked noise, bringing his hand up to his mouth to lick over his palm before he starts jerking himself off again.

“Scene change,” he says. “You’re tied to a table. It’s very bondagey.”

Matt laughs.

“Bondagey,” he repeats.

“I don’t know all your technical porn terms,” Foggy says. “You’re all strapped down with your ass in the air— _seems_ bondagey.”

Matt can remember the feel of thin ropes binding his wrists together behind his back, chest pressed against the surface, his legs spread wide with his ankles tied to each table leg. The table was cold, and he was tied up like that for hours to make sure all of the shots were consistent, but he didn’t have a hard time staying hard.

“Are they going to—yep, they’re going to,” Foggy says, and Matt hears himself getting hit by a riding crop, the noise as it moves through the air and the impact. His fingers tighten around his dick.

They took turns hitting him, and he said _thank you_ after every one, played up every noise he made and raised his hips as much as he could to take every hit.

“It sounds like you like it,” Foggy says, maybe shooting for casual, but his voice is rough and hesitant. “You’re a pretty good actor.”

“I’m really not,” Matt says.

“Oh,” Foggy breathes.

Onscreen, they strap a ball gag on him, run big hands over Matt’s body and say things to him that still make him flush. He’s close already, and he’s pretty sure Foggy’s closer, based on his breathing and the noise he makes before he says, “One of them just slapped your dick, man.”

Matt recognized that noise, too, his own muffled yell.

When they shove fingers inside of Matt, call him a little slut and make him beg to get fucked through his gag, Foggy says, frantically, “Matt, I’m gonna—”

“It’s okay,” Matt says, pushing himself further into Foggy’s space. “Me, too.”

“Shit,” Foggy gasps, groaning loudly as he comes over his hand. “Matty.”

“Fog,” Matt murmurs, turns enough that his face is almost hidden in Foggy’s hair as he follows him a few moments later. They stay where they are for a while, a step past cuddling and the movie still playing in the background, breathing heavily.

“How does this movie end?” Foggy asks, eventually.

“Uhm,” Matt says. “It involves a crowd and it’s—pretty bondagey.”

“Rain check?” Foggy says, moving carefully away and getting to his feet. “I’ve got to clean up and—run—errands and stuff—”

“Sure,” Matt says, feeling his stomach drop as Foggy leaves, immediately shutting his laptop and putting it away. He could have picked something nicer, maybe, something normal, but that series is definitely Matt’s best and—Foggy wanted to see them.

Foggy doesn’t come back until late, and Matt pretends to be asleep when he says his name, keeping his eyes shut tight.

*

In the morning, they walk to work together and Matt says, when they’re close to L&Z, “So, last night.”

“Last night,” Foggy agrees.

“What happened exactly?” Matt asks.

“Oh, you don’t remember?” Foggy says, lightly. “We watched you get sexually tortured and I came in like fifteen seconds.”

“That’s why you left?” Matt asks. “I told you it was okay.”

“I needed to wash my hands, mostly,” Foggy says, “and then I just needed some air. I was going to apologize for bailing, but you were asleep.”

“So, we’re okay?” Matt asks.

Foggy reaches up to pat the hand that Matt has wrapped around his elbow as they stop in front of the building.

“We’re okay,” he says. “My head just needed to adjust to the whole friends who jerk off together thing.”

“Oh,” Matt says.

He probably shouldn’t give Foggy anything new to adjust to, then, like the thing where he wants to do more than jerk off with him and the fact that his laugh sometimes makes Matt’s whole world light up or whatever. It’s fine. As long as they’re okay.

“Ready to face the world again?” Foggy asks.

“Not even slightly,” Matt says.

“Great,” Foggy says, tugging him forward gently.

They leave their bags in their office and go down to another meeting. Matt’s completely unsurprised when everybody goes quiet again.

“Oh, doctor, is this necessary?” Jenna moans, loudly, on cue.

“Oh, good,” Matt murmurs, as they sit down as far away from them as they can. “My greatest hits.”

“Trust me,” Josh says. “I’m a doctor. What you’re suffering from has only one cure.”

“What was the cure?” Foggy whispers.

Matt makes a sad face at him.

“A _really_ big dildo,” he whispers back.

“I think you maybe should have gotten a second opinion,” Foggy replies, and Matt laughs.

“Is he even worth fucking anymore, Nelson?” Josh asks, and Matt can basically feel Foggy’s mood shift.

“Fuck off,” Foggy says, tightly.

“Hey, it’s a legitimate question,” Jenna says. “He’s had a _lot_ shoved up there.”

When Foggy starts to stand up, Matt wraps his fingers around his wrist under the table, runs his thumb up the side of it. Foggy stills.

“What Murdock shoves up his ass is his own business,” Marci says, dryly, from the end of the table. “Now, how about you both shut your mouths before I shove something up yours? I’d love to actually get some work done today.”

“You’re no fun, Marci,” Jenna says.

“No, we just have a _very_ different definition of fun,” Marci says. “Meet me outside and I’ll show you mine.”

Jenna scoffs, and they’re saved from having to hear her comeback by one of the actual lawyers showing up.

“Remind me to send Marci a thank you card,” Matt says, then lets go of Foggy’s wrist after he realizes that he’s still holding it, folding his hands in his lap. 

“Be sure to sign my name,” Foggy replies.

*

They manage the first half of the day incident free, keeping to their office, until they have to go to the breakroom to get their lunches and are greeted with Josh saying, “I’m surprised to see our resident movie star out of hiding. Have people been asking for autographs? Is the fame too much?”

Foggy sighs beside him then goes to the refrigerator, but Josh just steps up closer to Matt, kicks his foot against his cane to jostle it in his hand.

“Since you’re here, why don’t you give us a live show, princess?” Josh asks. “Let’s see that ass that everybody’s been talking about.”

Josh leans in close and slides a hand over Matt’s ass—Foggy’s turning around to react just as Matt lets his instincts drive him, grabbing Josh’s arm and twisting it around behind his back, sending him sprawling to his knees.

“Shit,” Foggy breathes.

“First of all,” Matt says, trying to pretend like he’s not shaking, “You _don’t_ touch me.”

“Okay, man,” Josh says, scrambling to his feet and backing away. “Christ, it was a joke.”

“ _Second_ of all,” Matt continues, tightening his grip on his cane, “and this is for all of you—some people don’t have parents who can pay for them to fuck around through law school. Some of us have to _fuck_ our way through law school. Feel free to judge me, but I’m here because I actually give a shit.”  

Someone whistles. Matt’s pretty sure it’s Marci.

“Whatever,” Josh says, moving to sit down, and Matt steps forward to block him.

“You really want to see it? You want to see the ass that got me here? Go ahead and take a look—it’s worked harder than you’ll ever work in your entire _life_ ,” Matt says, feeling his smile turn vicious, turning around to take a deep breath before he walks out of the room.

Foggy rushes out after him, laughing.

“ _Matty_ ,” he says.

“Come on,” Matt says, taking his arm.

“Dude, I love you, you’re _amazing_ ,” Foggy says. “I’m going to describe all their fucking faces to you in _detail_.”

Matt opens the door to their office and pulls Foggy inside, pressing him up against the door when it closes behind him, so they’re standing chest to chest. He brushes their noses together.

“Can I?” he murmurs, feeling desperate and hoping.

“Oh my god, yes,” Foggy says, pushes forward into the kiss, tangling his fingers in Matt’s hair while Matt’s run up from Foggy’s hips to grip his shoulders.

“I have feelings,” Matt says, nonsensically, turning his face away abruptly.

“Okay, alright,” Foggy says. “What are they?”

“I have feelings for _you_ ,” Matt says. “Ridiculous feelings that have nothing to do with being friends.”

“. . .wait, _wait_ , were the porn viewings a wooing tactic?” Foggy asks, laughing.

“Maybe, I don’t know,” Matt says, grabbing him by the face to kiss him again, frantically, like somebody’s going to come in and stop them.

“ _Matthew_ ,” Foggy says, pulling away for long enough to push his forehead up against Matt’s. “I have _so many feelings_.”

“Tell me all about them later,” Matt says, and one of his hands drops to fumble with Foggy’s zipper.

“God, buddy, I—we can’t fuck in our office,” Foggy says, a little hysterically. “You’ve already got a reputation.”

“Then maybe I should live up to it,” Matt says, pressing a kiss to Foggy’s cheek before he drops neatly to his knees, tracing his fingers down Foggy’s legs. Foggy groans a little.

“Matty,” he says. “You really want this?”

“Yeah,” Matt says, pressing a kiss to his thigh through his slacks. “Let me show you how much, okay?”

“Okay,” Foggy breathes, dropping a hand to run fingers through Matt’s hair when Matt noses against his crotch before he licks over the fabric, just enough sensation to make Foggy’s hips jerk a little.

“I wanted to do this so bad after we watched that first video,” Matt says, smiling up at him as he unzips Foggy’s pants.

“So that _was_ an attempted kiss?”

“A rejected kiss,” Matt says, pulling his pants and boxers down a little pointedly, and Foggy laughs.

“I _panicked_ ,” he says, “about taking advantage of your fragile emotional state.”

“I’m not fragile,” Matt says.

“Oh, trust me, buddy,” Foggy says, tightening his grip on Matt’s hair. “I know.”

Matt can’t help his stupid grin as he raises his head towards Foggy, opens his mouth expectantly, moaning when Foggy wraps a hand around his own dick to guide it into Matt’s mouth.

“God,” Foggy breathes, and Matt rises up on his knees to take him deeper, digging his fingers into Foggy’s sides.

He bobs up and down on Foggy’s dick slowly, going as far as he can every time before pulling off, listening to the sound of Foggy’s body reacting underneath his mouth and fingers. Foggy makes amazing noises, low moans cutting into soft gasps, a running commentary of praise that makes Matt’s toes curl and his dick strain against his slacks.

“Shit, Matty,” Foggy murmurs, stroking his hair. “You know how good you look down there?”

“Tell me,” Matt says, laughing when he pulls off.

“Keep going and I will,” Foggy says, and Matt runs his tongue around the head of Foggy’s dick before he ducks his head down again, swallows around it.

“Mmm,” Matt says, encouragingly, and Foggy scratches gently at his scalp.

“You look _beautiful_ ,” he says. “So much better in 3D, man.”

Matt laughs around him and Foggy groans at the vibration, pushing Matt’s head down gently.

“I’m really proud of you, Matt,” he says, sliding fingers over where Matt’s lips are stretched around him. “You’re such a badass, you did so good today. You’re so good.”

Matt whines around him, blinking back tears.

Foggy’s fingers move to cup his cheek before he slowly pulls out of Matt’s mouth and says, “Come back up here.”

Matt stands up and immediately falls into a messy kiss, moaning when Foggy turns them around so he can press Matt against the door and start working on his zipper with one hand.

“Foggy,” Matt says, after Foggy slides his pants down for him.

“Yeah?” Foggy licks his hand before he wraps it around both of their dicks, so Matt turns his head to moan into Foggy’s hair. Matt takes a minute to breathe, rocking up against Foggy.

“You’re proud?” he murmurs, eventually, and Foggy lets out a soft breath.

“So proud,” he says, tightening his hand. “You’re amazing, Matt. Do you know that?”

Matt doesn’t reply, just kisses Foggy again, muffles the sound of Foggy saying his name and the frantic thud of his heart when he comes between them. After a moment, he pins Matt against the door with a hand on his shoulder and slides his other hand over Matt’s dick again, jerking him off while Matt pants against his mouth.

“Fog,” he says. “Foggy, please.”

“I’ve got you,” Foggy says. “Come on, Matt.”

He ducks his head and comes with his face buried in Foggy’s neck, one hand tangled in Foggy’s hair. They stay tucked up against each other until Foggy starts laughing, until Matt laughs with him.

“What?” he asks.

“I was just thinking that this would make a really good porn plot,” Foggy says.

“Oh my god,” Matt says, laughing harder before he kisses him to shut them both up. “Come on, we need to get to a bathroom. We’re gross.”

They clean up as well as they can before they go back outside to find that some of the interns who had been in the breakroom are now standing in the hallway nearby.

“They heard everything, didn’t they?” Matt whispers.

“I think so, buddy,” Foggy says, faintly.

Someone starts to slow clap, and nobody joins them.

“Thanks, Marce,” Foggy says, dryly, pulling Matt in the opposite direction, towards the single occupancy bathroom at the end of the hall. He kisses Matt again as soon as they lock the door behind them, and Matt smiles at him when they pull apart again.

“You know, there are _five_ sequels to the movie we watched yesterday,” he says.

“Are you suggesting a movie night?” Foggy asks, brightly.

“We can buy popcorn on the way home,” Matt says.

“It’s a date,” Foggy says, then, slowly, “It _is_ a date, right?”

“Yeah,” Matt says, happily, taking Foggy’s hand. “It’s a date."

**Author's Note:**

> I am writing A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT porn star AU, too, among a million different other Matt/Foggy things, which you can catch mostly [on Tumblr](http://returnsandreturns.tumblr.com)
> 
> I will also be posting some additional stuff to this fic eventually, because there are FIVE SEQUELS and they must watch them all.
> 
> eta: also here is an outtake that didn’t make it into the fic that I liked regardless--- __  
> “Hey, did you know Jenna and Josh fuck in the copy room?” Foggy asks. “Also, I’m pretty sure they’re cousins.”  
>     
> “Cousins?” Matt asks, laughing.  
>    
> “They’ve got that rich-ass inbred look,” Foggy says. “Gotta keep those Columbia legacies coming."


End file.
